The idle mind being the devil’s playground, our vacation last week in northern Michigan brings forth these quodlibital observations.
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Proliferation of errors in signage must certainly be a ruse to fool our enemies into thinking that we, being ignorant of our own language, are a radically susceptible people. Witness the van with a professionally painted advertisement assuring the reader that the tradesman within can be relied upon to deliver “quality” work--the unqualified descriptive an invitation to imagine what level of quality the chap might be able to produce, the quotation marks signifying the impossibilty that no quality at all is involved.
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I was tempted to stop at the church whose placard read “Sun Worship 10:45” on the chance of seeing henges, leys, or perhaps even a druidical Archbishop. But alas, the sign’s assurance of the congregation’s devotion to Jesus made it unlikely, so we drove on.
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If I didn’t have such a cynical turn of mind I would have put this first: We were honored to be on a ferry excursion where one of our fellow passengers was none other than JESUS. It must have been he, because it said it on the back of his baseball cap, right on the little band you use to tighten it. He was considerably older and heavier than I had pictured him, but apparently spry and in good humor, off for a jolly bit of holiday with his friends.
When I was younger I spent a good bit of time, prompted by my church, feeling guilty because my reticence to do the equivalent of wearing Jesus baseball caps indicated I was ashamed of the Lord. I later came to the conclusion, however, that much of what I attributed to being ashamed of the Lord was in fact being ashamed of people who weren’t ashamed of him, which isn’t exactly the same thing.
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I am no friend to perfectionist teaching of the Wesleyan-Holiness variety. While I believe all believers must pursue perfect holiness (which is to say, must follow Christ), and that if they do not, they have no right to consider themselves Christians, I do not believe that anyone has or will achieve it this present life, and think that to teach otherwise leads to all kinds of sin and folly. I hate, and refuse to moan along, for example, with hymns like “I Surrender All,” because I believe no one can rightly profess to do this, and that anyone who does sing it is at best mistaken about his abilities and intentions, and at worst a hypocrite and liar.
But that is not all there is to say about this. Last week I visited an old friend of Methodist background. He had heard a strong and insistent voice within him asking him if he really meant what he said in a prayer of consecration about surrendering his will to God. He answered that he did, which meant doing what he knew, in his present situation, to be the right thing, a doing which would remove him from every hall of power and influence, sending him out into a kind of wilderness, quite possibly for the rest of his life. He did it, and now dwells in deserto, vox clam non clamatis, prey to the attacks of the many demons who live there.
I do not conceive of that as perfect surrender, but as something more like following orders, whatever one thinks of them, and wherever one fears they may carry him. This is what every soldier does. It is no great thing for him, for whom the reasonable expectation of an inglorious death is part of the job. I have followed orders pretty consistently, presume I can do it again, and can manage without hymnodical hysterics about surrendering all, thank you. Nor do I have any argument with the Wesleyan for whom “perfect surrender” amounts to doing what one is commanded by his Superior Officer.
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Here is also the memory of the godly and very influential elder woman who informed me one evening of the incredible potential I would have if I quit following the path I was on (which she simply could not understand as anything but straying), and submitted myself fully to God. I did, and still do, regard that voice as satanic, as Peter’s was once to Christ: “What you are doing now is suicidal: you could be a very important man, someone who could accomplish something truly significant for God.” If I had done the sort of thing that would please her, it is possible that I would now be doing what she considered great things--and for a short while she was able to confuse me. But then I considered the way I had been given to follow, decided she was grossly presumptuous, and from then on ignored her with as much confidence as she wanted me to believe her.
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